


Legends that Stem

by Clairosene



Series: Eismethian [1]
Category: Eismethian
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:21:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27923710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clairosene/pseuds/Clairosene
Summary: This is a book I'm writing for fun based on a whole lot of world building I made, so hope y'all enjoy~-In the world of Cathaldra, Jason is sent by his home country of Multan to help out the post war nation of Andol. Jason is the 331st Varidian, and has large shoes to fill, desperate to show his family back home that he is worthy of his position. With the help of his helix, Helene, and street rat Lawrence, Jason is on a journey to find the lost prince of Andol. Meanwhile, Alyon, a bounty hunter, hears of mystic troubles plaguing the continent.Will Jason find his prince? What is Alyon so afraid of? And do we find which side Lawrence wil choose?
Series: Eismethian [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2044705





	1. Prologue

There was a crack, like a whip in the night, screaming out, begging to be heard. Voices carried throughout the city, wails of women and shouts of men, as the storms of mid-summer swayed everyone out of their beds and into the streets. Alyon was one of them, she wasn't very fond of being out and she was definitely not fond of being awakened in the middle of the night, but something about the screams she heard urged her to pick up her sword and strap on her breastplate. She slid her feet into her boots and opened the door to her room. She looked out and saw that the main floor of the Inn the Tavern, which was usually hustling at all hours, was completely empty. Not even the barmaid could be seen wearing her usual apron, coin stuffed into her pockets, and her hair done up in a loose bun. Alyon heard the voices from outside when she glanced around she saw that all the rooms at the end were open. How stupid was she? How could she not have noticed everyone had left? Though... they do say a quiet mind sleeps like a rock.  
She went back into her room and slung on the rest of her armor, tying her hair into a loose ponytail at the nape of her neck. It was the best she could do under the circumstances. She packed the rest of her things into her bag and ran out to the end, aware that payment was the least of her concerns at this moment.  
As she expected, the streets were chaotic. People were grabbing at all they could and shoving those in their way onto the ground. Alyon stepped through the doorway, the hard rain pounding against her shoulders and top of her head. No one paid her any attention, all too focused on their own needs. She'd never seen anything like this before, certainly not during a storm, certainly not in the dead of night, and certainly not in a town like this.  
She pulled up her hood in an attempt to cover her head, although she was already drenched, it was more for her own peace of mind than anything. She made her way swiftly and silently through the town, staying close to the walls of the buildings, staying away from the crowds that inhabited the streets. A few tried to grab at her, her bag, her hair, others simply shoved into her, brushing against her shoulders before running off. Another crash of thunder shook the sky, followed by a bright flash of lightning. It was much louder than she'd expected, and from it, more screams could be heard. Alyon turned around as heat kissed her back. Her eyes widened as she saw the inn go up in flames. She let out a silent prayer to the gods thanking them for waking her in time - not that she was much for religion or those who paid much attention to it. She continued on when a man stopped in front of her and grabbed onto her shoulders.  
“He's here!” the man shouted; eyes wide and full of terror.  
“Who?” Alyon tried to shove him away but the man was persistent and took hold of her neck.  
“We're all gonna die!” the man persisted. “He's here!”  
Alyon grabbed at her sword and struck him with the hilt. He winced, gripping his side, and fell to the floor before crawling off into the shadows.  
She continued on faster now, the water from the floor splashing against her boots. The city gates were open and Alyon ran towards the stables, her horse whinnying as a pair of men attempted to untie her from her Holdings.  
Alyon drew her sword and whispered under her breath, “Doreis.”  
The blade lit up in brilliant light and the two men shielded their eyes from view. She pushed past them and quickly untied her horse, brushing her mane softly as the light dimmed.  
“Easy, Yureh. You’re alright, girl,” she hoisted herself onto the horse’s back and grabbed hold of the reins. “Time to go,” Alyon said, kicking her heels into the horse’s sides, and flicking the reins.  
Yureh, with a whinny, bolted past the town, and into the clearing towards the woods. Alyon took a quick glance back and saw a storm cloud swirling at the center of the city, lightning crashing down, and thunder roaring. The sky filled with deep purples, blues, and grey and, at the center of it all, she swore she could make out a figure.


	2. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this is the first chapter, basically when the main character, Jason is introduced.
> 
> Please don't hate him

Jason had been up for a few hours. He always woke with the dawn—at the very crack of dawn—no matter where he was or what he had been doing the night before. In the case of this morning, he’d been almost sure he’d have slept in but, unfortunately, his aversion towards tardiness had presented itself as some sort hardwiring, stemming from his very core. Although he had been up for hours, his productivity had been something of abysmal, which in this case meant nowhere to be found

He’d arrived in Andol not five days ago, and the majority of it had been spent in his room. Not by choice, of course, but there wasn’t much else to consider, as it seemed his entire journey here had been laid out for him from the start. He remembered the morning he’d woken up and been assigned this task. The Chairman himself had come down to the courtyard, where Jason often found himself accompanied by whoever he was infatuated with that day.

Jason had been alone that day, however, the flowers were in full bloom, as summer had come around. In Multan, spring seemed to last longer than it should have, on account for it never needing to be winter. Jason, who was lounging about on a wicker bed, decorated with flowers from the gardens, and dressed in silks for his comfort, did not bat an eyelash when the esteemed Chairman had approached him. Rather, he made it a conscious decision to ignore the politician.

“I have a job for you,” the Chairman spoke in a low voice, soothing, each word resonating like the strings of a guitar.  
It didn’t take long for them to pack him up and ship him off to this place. Of course, Multan had its perks, and the council was sure to send Jason somewhere he’d be known and cared for. He was staying in a capital city, in the king’s palace to boot. They’d set him up with the finest room they could supply and even provided him with an appropriate wardrobe. The residents had even waited on him hand and foot, but there was something about the way he’d been sent off that didn’t sit right. These people expected Jason to aid them somehow, help them in their time of need, but so far he hadn’t been privy to a single meeting, or in any way been asked to hold council. It was as if it was just a way for the council to get rid of him. So long, we’ll see you when the next one pops up. Do try not to keep us waiting. That’s how they spoke, or, at least, how they spoke when Jason wasn’t around.

A knock came on Jason’s door and a feeling of guilt washed over him. Why was he feeling guilty? He hadn’t done anything wrong, and besides, it wasn’t as if they could hear his thoughts… could they?

Another knock, this time quieter. “It’s Helene, are you awake?”

Jason recognized that voice - the unfamiliar accent, the way the ‘h’ was dropped - and opened the door. He stared down at a raven-haired girl, who was just about to knock a third time.

“What do you want?” Jason stood in the doorway, preventing her from entering.

“So, you are awake?” she said with a smirk. She spoke with a strange accent, from nowhere Jason had ever heard, and he’d been to more places in his twenty years than most people do in a lifetime.

“So, you are awake,” Jason mimicked her voice. “It’s noon, Helen, what do you think?”

She shrugged and ducked under his arm, “As your personal physician, it’s my job to ensure you’re healthy.” She pronounced healthy like el-thee with a soft th.

Jason watched as she went and sat on his plush white bed. She hugged onto one of his pillows as Jason shut the door. A personal physician was an overstatement: Helene was a helix in training, which meant this was her first step into field training and, so far, she hadn’t paid much attention to Jason or his personal well-being. It seemed as though even Helix himself didn’t care much for what he was doing, and had awarded Jason with the first person he could think of. Personal physician… what a joke.

“Besides,” Helene continued, “it’s not good to oversleep.”

“And you decided that now was the best time to check up on me?” Jason crossed his arms over his chest.

Helene let the pillow down, her expression softening, “It’s not like I had much choice.” Again, she dropped the ‘h’ in had, like ‘ad. “I just got out of a meeting, and-”

“There’s a meeting?” Jason dropped his arms.

“There is,” Helene got to her feet quickly. “They told me I could go, but I don’t think you should-”

Jason turned around and opened the door, “Where are they?” He stepped out from his room and into the hall.

“You’re hardly dressed,” she said, trying to keep up with Jason, who was covering plenty of ground with his long strides.  
It was true that Jason wasn’t wearing his best clothes. In fact, he had been wearing black trousers and a simple white doublet. His feet were bare, but that wasn’t of much concern to him at the moment.

Jason judged his direction based on Helene’s expressions. Whenever he seemed to be going the right direction, she made a certain face. Her eyebrows scrunched together, and she pursed her lips ever so slightly. How she knew where they were going was beyond him, since everywhere in this palace looked exactly the same. There was far too much white for Jason’s comfort. White marble flooring, white wooden castings for the walls, even the ceilings were adorned with some sort of mosaic tile work that had been done in varying shades of white and light greys, fitted with enchanted light.

Eventually, Jason reached a large set of silver doors. Helene’s face was speaking for her, her fists were balled, her knuckles beginning to turn white.

“I’m guessing we go in here?” he said, nodding towards the door.  
“Why are you even asking?” she huffed.

Jason pushed the doors open and stepped through, with Helene close behind. The floors were a white herringbone, and the walls were decorated with a pale lilac tiling, leading up to possibly the tallest ceiling he’d seen in this place, adorned with crown moldings. In the center of the room was a very large round black table, roughly cut as if someone had carved out a slab of obsidian and slapped it onto four legs. There were no chairs surrounding the table - not that there was anyone to sit in them as the room was hauntingly empty.

Helene, who was wearing proper footwear, stepped into the room, soft taps following her and echoing all around them. Jason regarded the obsidian table, gold veins dancing through the stone and a soft glow emanating as the sun cast a warm light into the room. To their right were four picture windows, each accompanied with plush grey seating. All sorts of greenery and foliage pressed against the glass of the windows, obstructing the view of what could be beyond. Through the windows, Jason could see there was some kind of greenhouse, and just barely make out the silhouette of five figures. At the side of the room, where the windows ended, was a small glass doorway leading out, probably the entrance from the greenhouse.

Jason started towards the door, and Helene attempted to stop him.

“There’s probably a good reason you weren’t called,” she tried to reason with him. “I mean, you don’t really want to sit in on a dull meeting.”

Jason pushed past her and strode across the room, Helene clip-clopping after him as her heels hit the polished floor. 

Just before Jason was able to open the garden door, he heard voices speaking his name and was prompted, by his curiosity if nothing else, to continue listening.

"-the three-hundred-and-thirty-first Varidian after Grace,” the voice continued, “this could be a huge honor, having him here to help us like this,”

“It could be a feat,” another voice spoke. “The last Varidian, Analese Larena, lived over a thousand years and, in that time, taught forty of the best mages. It’s a true pity that she decided to leave, or leave the world for the next Varidian as she put it.”

A third voice scoffed, “He doesn’t even want to be called Varidian,”

“It’s true,” the second voice chimed in. “I approached him and said ‘welcome lord Varidian’ and he wouldn’t have it,”

“Jason Cledian,” a different voice laughed, “that’s how he introduced himself, if I’m not mistaken.”

Someone sighed, “It’s a shame. Lady Varidian was so grand, a true gem, so what’s left for him? Pick up the pieces and let the next Varidian show themselves up? After all, it’s not as if you can do worse than nothing. He’d be doing his successor a favor by leaving early. At the least, he’d be known for something.”

Jason had just about enough of these people talking about him in such a way while he was just outside. He needed just to knock on the door, alert them of his presence, and they’d see who had something to see then. Instead, he bit his bottom lip, hard enough to taste blood.

He turned on his heel and headed back towards the silver doors. Helene, whose complexion blanched even further, followed him closely. She waited until they were out of the room and halfway to Jason’s chamber to say anything, any form of explanation as to why they were talking about him that way, and what sort of things she had been privy too during her engagement in the meeting.

“I did leave, Lord Varidian,” she began. “I couldn’t stand it. They don’t know you or what you’ve accomplished.”

Jason exhaled, the slightest trace of laughter escaping him, “Right, because I’m such a great Varidian. I’m sure to do great.” He turned a sharp corner, “Not that they're wrong. I have no intention of living past a hundred anyways. A thousand years is a bit excessive.”

“I’m so sorry for what they said, Lord Varidian,” she said, her voice no louder than a whisper. “Please, do not take it to heart-”  
Something boiled in Jason’s gut. “I told you not to call me that. I’m Jason, got it? Jason.”

“Right,” Helene said. “My mistake, Jason.”

Jason turned back and gave her a glance, shifting his gaze back in front of him just as an ironclad woman with stark black hair and piercing yellow eyes seemed to appear in front of him out of nowhere.

“My—watch where you’re going,” the woman snapped, her eyebrows knit closely together. She was absolutely soaking wet, drops of water visible on her armor, and her cloak, which was once a nice blue, had now been reduced to mostly brown as a trail of mud was found behind her.

Jason looked her up and down, “Right, well, I’ll make sure to keep an eye out for… well, whatever you are, next time I decide to walk around a castle.”

The woman straightened up and Jason could see that she was very tall, almost as tall as Jason, who, by his own standards, was not at all on the short side. She stepped forward until she was nose to nose with him, her breath very hot against his lips.

“I’d have some more respect if I were you, or are you unaware of who I am?”

Jason scoffed, almost purely on instinct, “You? Do you have any idea who you’re speaking with?”

The woman looked him up and down, her eyes very much resembling those of a snake. She met his gaze once more, “Not sure. From the looks of it, you seem to be not worth my time.”

Heat flared up in Jason’s fists. No one had ever had the audacity to speak to him like that, not even Camryn had the nerve to speak to him like that. He was a Varidian. An Alenian. Was this woman even aware of what he was capable of?

Before Jason could retort back, footsteps clicked behind him and someone spoke up.

“You’re back.” It was one of the voices from the greenhouse.

“Aye,” the woman replied, still in Jason’s face, not even glancing the voice’s way when she responded. “I’ve got something to share with you, Sir Bertian.”

Jason kept his eyes on the woman as she took a small step back, allowing him to take a breath. He hadn’t realized until now that he was holding it.

“My humblest apologies, Lord Varidian,” Sir Bertian said, exhaustion creeping into his voice. “This is Alyon. Let’s retire to the High Chamber. This calls for a meeting.”

-

It was rather strange being in a situation like this but, of course, Helene had little to no other choice in the matter. Lady Alyon had arrived and Helene, like any good friend, was forced by Lord Varidian to stay by his side as the two of them had a little argument over whose horse was bigger. Everyone gathered around the grand circular table. It was quite large and left plenty of room for Helene to join, although she was momentarily distracted by the sound of a quiet bell. Perhaps it signified that lunch had begun, but it was far too faint to be anything like that.

They were now seated in the High Chamber, all around the large obsidian table and, although there were no chairs previously, seats appeared when the group approached, all of which were different in design. She sat between Alyon and Lord Varidian, as the other five Chamber Members gathered around in the remaining chairs. Alyon, who had been given a nice towel, still decided to drape her cloak against her beautiful hand-carved chair, reducing it to a mere mud-splattered bench. Helene could barely stifle a comment and had to direct her attention elsewhere. Lord Varidian had an intricate and very ornately colored recliner of sorts and it appeared to be very comfortable. Helene’s was the most plain out of the bunch - which was to be expected - but for her, it was something fit for Louis XII. Not that she cared for her previous monarch, especially considering it was someone such as him who had ordered her to be burned at the stake.

To date, it had been ten years since she’d last been home, not that France was much of a home to her at this point. She was glad to begin her new life as a helix. She’d finished her preliminary training and now had fifteen more years as a field physician before returning to Wisteria Gardens to complete the rest of her training.

“I don’t see the need for her to be here,” Lord Varidian said, jerking his head in Alyon’s direction, his arms crossed over his chest. He was reclined in his chair, a clear expression of distaste visible in his pursed lips.

“At least I was invited,” the bounty hunter muttered under her breath, to which Lord Varidian jolted upright.

“Alyon has been hired by the kingdom to survey the state of smaller cities,” Sir Bertian pulled out a leather-bound notebook and set it down on the table.

Another of the council members pulled out a tightly wound scroll, “Well then, shall we begin? Or does anyone require any further compensation?”

Alyon rolled her eyes. The five members of the High Council, as this kingdom, didn’t seem to have any form of king, and instead was made up of some form of democracy. Sometime before the great war, there had been some sort of king who lived in this palace, made apparent by the grand paintings and murals that decorated many of the castle halls, along with the statues of previous monarchs in the courtyards. Even in the High Chamber, which Helene guessed must have previously been a throne room of sorts, had a rather large painting of a man with a shining helmet under his arm and locks of golden hair cascading around his face. The last king of Andol, Helene had learned in her preliminary readings, had been deemed a martyr; sacrificing himself so that the new Andol could thrive, and the ways of old had died out along with the war. It was supposedly a unanimous decision but, as a helix, Helene was in no place to question it.

She heard a soft creak and turned her attention away from the meeting and saw a cat entering the chamber from the greenhouse. It was mostly white with patches of orange and black; a calico. Helene couldn’t help but smile a little as it reminded her of her own cat back home. She leaned back in her chair, her hand almost touching the floor, and rubbed her thumb and index finger together, clicking her tongue. The cat’s ears perked up and cocked its head to the side, and Helene’s smile widened even further.

“Viens, chaton,” she murmured, then continued clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth. She kept one ear open to the conversation and her eyes locked on the cat.

“-it shouldn’t be too much of an issue,” Lord Varidian’s voice rang true, it must have been the first time he’d spoken in a while.  
“Important enough an issue to get you involved,” Sir Bertian replied. “If what Alyon says is true, then there is someone who is causing mayhem in the smaller towns. Surely, this could grow and affect some of the surrounding cities, and eventually lurch into the capitol.”

Helene peeked up at the table, unsure as to what to contribute to the conversation, and decided it would be best for her to stay aside as an observer. Only providing council when it was absolutely required.

A woman with long silver hair, entwined with a dark grey circlet, cleared her throat, “There must always be the account of our citizens. If it’s true what this bounty hunter says, then surely we must stop whatever this is at its core.”

“That is if we can trust her.” A council member with a long horse-like face said, “A bounty hunter, and a mouse at that,”  
Alyon smiled sadly, “No need for slurs, Lady Harriet, unless you’ve forgotten the need for mice like me?”

“I haven’t forgotten,” Lady Harriet sniffed, turning up her nose. “I’m not so young to not remember when the likes of you were as common as vermin. Now we’re supposed to find you charming, just because of this little complication?”

“Glad to know you find the abuse of innocent children so dismissible,” Alyon maintained her smile, “I was under the impression that the new Andol had apologized for the acts of war.”

The councilwoman tensed, “It was not Andol that committed these atrocities. We never asked Freya to partake in such drastic measures,”

“I never implied it did,” the bounty hunter's face had not changed expression and, if anything, she had become firmer in her position. Helene could assume that Alyon dealt with this sort of behavior on multiple occasions, more than Helene was comfortable with estimating.

“It has been two decades, surely that counts for something,” Sir Bertian spoke with a hint of laughter in his tone, uncomfortable laughter yes, but it was some attempt to lighten the mood. “Twenty years of peace through the continent.”

Helene turned her attention back to the cat. The calico, surely taking his time, outstretched his front legs, claws extended, then opened his mouth widely for a yawn. The cat then began prancing over to Helene in a very elegant manner, the bell tied around his neck chiming every so often. Must be a pet, she thought to herself. The cat then sniffed her fingers, promptly deciding to rub his cheek on the back of her hand.

She reached down and picked the cat up, to which he let out a quick chirp. No one seemed to notice as Helene gently placed the cat onto her lap and began stroking his back. The cat purred contently, eyes closed and chin resting on her thigh.

“-do you think so, helix?” a council member had spoken. More importantly, had spoken to her, and she was far too infatuated with the tidings of a certain calico.

Helene straightened herself and gave a polite smile, “I’m sorry, my lady? I did not hear.” 

The council member, the one with silver hair, raised an eyebrow, clearly not being used to having to repeat herself for anyone, “Your thoughts on the growing concern for public safety?”

“Right, well,” Helene thought to herself for a moment, unsure what to say, but collected the information she had previously retained and spoke, “It would be best to close off the provinces for Andol. Each province is able to sustain itself, and it is summer so there won’t be too much need for the commute or major trades.”

Sir Bertian smiled, “Thank you helix, I will send word for that.”

“There is one more concern,” Alyon said, elbows rested on the table. She exhaled and closed her eyes. “We must deal with him.”

Helene looked between the faces of the table, “Deal with who?”

Varidian let out a breath, “The prince.”


End file.
